


Glass Skin, Paper Eyes

by KayosTerum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Bisexuality, Black Hermione Granger, Black Lavender Brown, Dark, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Fantasy, Existential Angst, Existentialism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Monster(s), Multi, Polyamory, Psychological Horror, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28933863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayosTerum/pseuds/KayosTerum
Summary: Hermione,  Charms teacher to Hogwarts, uncovers a secret that may change everything--a secret society of Fae living under their noses all this time!What she discovers will drive Headmaster Severus Snape halfway to madness and into an adventure none of them could anticipate: These fae are not what they expect, and may be something more sinister altogether.A story on love, rebuilding, second and third chances and moving forward no matter what the cost.This is a fic with dark themes, but is primarily a comedy instead of a tragedy. My first SSHG. Reviews keep me alive.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Hannah Abbott/Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Padma Patil/Ron Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	1. A Chance Meeting

Years later, he would finally admit on one of the few occasions she had ever seen him drunk that it was only the lack of inclusion of her Floo connection that prevented him from hexing her in person. Severus went on to call her impertinent, brash, obnoxious, entitled and everything he hated. Despite having developed ‘a figure to many young mens' liking’, there was little redeemable to her. It was a comment he would never remember--or at least admit to having said--sober.

So when he had received the application from Lavender Brown for the vacant Defense Against the Dark Arts Position, Headmaster Severus Snape, Order of Merlin 1st Class, War Hero, Greasy Git, the Byronic Hero, had nearly burned the floral-scented paper on sight. The poor tawny owl nearly shat on his desk with how quickly it flew at his frightening outburst before waiting for a reply. Lavender had to spend a week calming the poor thing down before it would send her reply back. 

She could picture Snape apoplectic with that one vein above the pitch black eyebrow pulsing heavily on his forehead as it had in school. This time beset below his salt and pepper hair on his alabaster skin. 

He could still not admit to her, even years after her service, that she was the most qualified applicant, having won an Order of Merlin, 3rd class, for her ‘bravery’ during the Battle of Hogwarts. As well as having fought alongside others under the rule of the Carrows, -- _ his first year as Headmaster _ the nagging voice in her head reminded her-- and years of practical experience. Lavender had, in her surprisingly simple script, spent 5 years as an Auror alongside some of her former DA cohorts into ‘the private sector’; ‘detective work’, and ‘low-wage enforcement- had less of a ring to it.

She was, despite all of his strong assertions to the opposite, almost overqualified for the job, if you ignored everything else abouther, he had said,  except for her accomplishments, she was ultimately the most reliable person for the job. Being the only applicant, she was also the  _ only _ person for the job. It took nearly a full bottle of Ogden’s before he let that one slip. Lavender, having spent years developing into the sort of woman who knew when to keep quiet, never brought that point up.

And thus several years later it was that Lavender Brown sat quietly in the classic chintz chairs that surrounded the entire quarters of her partner of five years and her lover of many more, Divination teacher Parvati Patil. Finishing the rest of her earl grey with  _ a single _ lump of sugar--she always knew how she liked it, her angel, her Parvati--she leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Surprised while lost in thought, Parvati, set down her cup and leaned into the embrace of the curvier woman, her rich medium-deep skin with golden undertones contrasting with the richer, darker-complected and lightly freckled skin of Lavender.

Before Parvati could feel the weakness in her knees beginning the register, grateful she was sitting down, Lavender pulled away, giving her that large, open-mouthed grin that Parvati saw in her fondest dreams and memories. “I have to go, Parv. Sev has been hard enough on me about keeping time and I can’t be late for this class.”   
  
“Of course Lav,” she kissed her again, more softly this time. Standing now, her rich, royal-blue robes cut like a sari and wrapped in golden filigree falling gracefully about her feet. “Don't let him hear you call him that, mind.I still haven’t forgiven you for those robes he nearly ruined spitting out his tea the first time you did.”

“You wouldn’t be yourself if you did forgive me, love. '' Lavender began fixing her sandy-blonde, thickly textured hair in a mirror set in an alcove in Parvati's office just near the Divination classroom. She put back on her coat of lip lacquer, a deep burgundy meant to set off the warm highlights of her features. The thick coating of scars lining her neck and going up the side of her face did nothing, in Parvati’s opinion at least, to diminish the blonde buxom bombshell her lover had grown into from the coquettish but perhaps innocent child she had once been. Parvati would never trade one square inch of the warrior woman she called a wife, even if it meant that she would sometimes have to compromise on going to restaurants featuring the bloodiest steaks that Professor Patil, a lifelong vegetarian, could stomach watching Lavender scarf down.

“I’ll see you later at the meeting, doll. Don’t let the thought of the First years next week scare you too much. They’re no more clueless than you or I.” Lavender intoned   
  
“If nobody pulls a Grim, it’s been a good year.”   
  
“Hear, hear. I’ve had enough death omens for a lifetime.”

******

Hermione Granger was not a woman easily cowed. Having lived through a war from a young age, facing first the ignorance and injustice of the Muggle world, followed by blood prejudice and the stigma of being a Muggleborn in a Pureblood-oriented wizarding world, she was barely cognizant of fear when mild-to-moderate dangers registered.

Thus it was,, in hindsight, quite a spectacle to see her visibly shaking. Mahogany-Brown , gold-flecked eyes wide amongst golden-tan skin quickly drained of all color, leaving a paler ashen taupe in its wake. It was silly, really. Hilarious, almost. She let out a harsh laugh that felt more like a bar and felt her throat constricting. 

There in front of her stood an otter, or, perhaps a dog? It was a creature unlike one she had ever seen. It was...cute, almost. Far ahead in the marshes that were currently foggy and moist with the September chill of the moors, it stood on the edges of the black lake and splashed in the water.    
  
Having an otter as a Patronus, Hermione had spent a good deal of time familiarizing herself with their habits. She had even impressed her parents once in 1st grade by doing an entire science project in such detail about her favorite aquatic mammal after having seen them on television. There was an entire summer spent begging before Jean and Richard Granger to take her to a rarely-given tour at an otter conservation center in Devon when she was just 8 years old. 

This otter was...odd. It had sharper feet, a more rounded body and while it seemed perfectly at ease rolling around on the edge of the black lake, it certainly was not in its home habitat. Having read a variety of magical texts, she was surprised she hadn’t seen this animal before. Something about it was enchantingly beautiful, so she wasn’t quite sure why she felt such a chill og up her back. Before she could walk closer to investigate, she heard her name over her shoulder.

\--”Hermione!”   
  
She spun so fast her hair whipped around her in a parody of dance, landing gracefully on her back again as it nestled amongst the deep-brown her of her robe-like coat, on top of her Muggle jeans and red pullover peasant blouse.

“Neville!”

Despite having been on the campus for already a week now, it was the first that her dear friend of over two decades had been able to see Hermione without some level of paperwork, moving frenzy, Herbology catastrophe or stuffy boardroom staff meeting to wade through. Other than perfunctory greeting and a brief--but fierce--hug, their communication had been nonexistent. Extremely grateful for the break to allow her a moment, Hermione looked over her shoulder back at where  _ he _ had been. Like a ghost, he had vanished. Disturbed, but distracted, Hermione glanced over at Neville, giving her one of his familiar smiles that brought the boyishness back into his handsome, chiseled features, long since having lost their baby fat. 

His previously pale English skin had been darkened to a medium tan, and his pinkish undertones now showed in glorious contrast against the new tones caused by his long time in the sun and many hours outside. His tall form was now chiseled with the heavy lifting and surprisingly back breaking work of the job plus many hours on his feet, his tan work robes opened to reveal one of his crisp button-downs spelled against dirt ,--today’s was a robin’s egg blue that set off his eyes-- tucked into slim fit work slacks and muddy dragon-skin boots. A hodgepodge catastrophe on anyone else, he worked it seamlessly.

Hermione had long viewed Neville as a brother, a nonsexual object, something only slightly changed when he married his long time sweetheart Hannah Abbott a few years before.

They hugged fiercely as he pulled her up, her curved body being lifted easily by his taller one. Placing her down gently she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before pulling away, a broad, earnest grin splitting across her face, one of many she always held for those she considered as close as family, her prior horrors and wonders forgotten.

“Are you ready for the final staff meeting tonight?” Neville said, setting her down.

“You mean the one that has resulted in a nasty hangover the prior six years? The one Septima still insists is compulsory? I’m about as ready as I am ever going to be. My head, however, is already dreading it.”

Neville laughed heartily. “I already have plenty of Hangover Potions in my quarters, you are welcome to borrow one. Penny brewed a fresh batch yesterday in preparation.”   


“I think that would be perfect, thanks Neville!” 

They stood there silently for a moment, their friendship too familiar for any silences to be awkward, before Neville bid her adieu, citing a need to shower and change before the meeting. 

Hermione bid him farewell and set off on her own before the much dreaded evening. She trudged back up the grounds to her quarters, not even noticing how easily she had forgotten the once vexing creature.

******

It was that damned knot. The one that sat on the front of the desk,  _ just _ so, illuminating its ugliness amongst the rest of the smooth, oak finish of the long staff meeting table that had been installed under Minerva’s watch. It was built from fallen trees from the Forest itself, and along the edge were inscribed runes and symbols associated with luck, fortune, kindness. Severus thought the entire thing foolish, but it had been a gift to Minerva from some-or-other person in charge of reconstruction (not that he remembered it, convalescing and less than useless as he was at the time) just after the Battle of Hogwarts and despite his distaste with the bulky thing, he refused to remove it for reasons he would not say to anyone else.

But despite how understated and nominally attractive the piece might otherwise have been, that one single knot that stood out amongst the otherwise smooth expanse made him want to blast the entire table into smithereens. He pointed it out to Minerva once, sitting on her left as her Head Deputy not so many years ago--she first had no idea what he was talking about. Then, as he explained it, she looked at him as if he had grown three heads like that damned Dog that he still bore the scar from on his calf Potter;  _ Harry _ , he insisted he be called. Instead of  _ The Boy With the Big Mouth, The Boy Who Cannot Keep Secrets, The Boy Who Insists on Taking His Tea with Far Too Many Sugars during their Quarterly Meetings. _

Having pulled out his wand and debated for the fifth, tenth, fiftieth time to blast that damned knot smooth--and perhaps the entire accursed table while he was at it--was pushed to the side once again by the shuffling of many feet and the joining of many voices as everyone gathered round. Aurora Sinistra, his Deputy, sat at his right, and Septima Vector sat on his left. Septima, having taking a lot more emotional damage during the war than she let on, had been an obvious choice with her years of experience for Deputy Head. Instead that position went to Aurora, being a pureblood and a Slytherin who had been only two years ahead of him, had fought through both wars and understood better than many the role required to bring unity back to the splintered factions following the Wizarding war and what would be required of them in the coming years.

He would never admit it, but short of Poppy (who never truly believed him evil, no matter what she said otherwise) and Minerva, Aurora had been the first of the staff to embrace him with open arms and act as if nothing had happened. She, unlike others, had not given belated and embarrassing apologies like “Hey, sorry I assumed you were evil like everyone else and made your years hell”. In true Slytherin fashion, her only action was to offer him a cup of tea just as he liked it, and to bring up the latest article she had spotted in Potions Quarterly. Such drawn-out, embarrassing emotional displays were for Gryffindors and Americans, and summarily avoided. Just like that, they moved on.

Sinistra smiled in greeting, her bright white teeth pairing beautifully against her darker toned skin, her long straightened hair flowing beautifully with the black robes she wore. Still tall and slim, she always cut a fine figure, but some white hairs now traced along her black ones and her rich skin tone only hid some of the lines that had started to form around her brown eyes. 

Septima chatted happily at the Astronomy teacher, her own hair having greyed much more than the other witch and her lighter face showing the years that she had undergone more heavily. This was not to say that her beauty was diminished, merely that like all of them, she had changed with the seasons. Bathsheda Babbling was currently the oldest on staff--Severus avoided thinking about what that made  _ him _ \--and her hair was a brilliant white amongst a much-lined pale face, with bright shining grey eyes that still held all of their wit. These four were what he mentally considered  _ the old guard _ , the original staff left at Hogwarts prior to the battle.

It had been just over fifteen years, he posited, long enough for many changes to come and go. In walked the rest of the Hogwarts staff, most of them having been taught by him or just having left before he began his teaching career. 

With all of the staff present--after much readjusting, talking, clomping, moving, neighing and whining--they were finally all present. And thus began one of the most boring and monotonous things he had long since come to hate in his role. However, this meeting, however maligned couldn’t be avoided. They needed to begin  _ this _ year differently.  _ This _ year was when all of his-- _ their _ \--years of preparation came to a head. 

He coughed to clear his throat. Everyone at the raucous table instantly went quiet and all eyes were trained on him in an instant. “I need to go over a few things with the Heads of House and other positions, and then we will be clear to enjoy other activities.” His tongue flicked out to touch the side of his mouth as his eyes flicked, ever so quickly, towards the chilled Ogden’s waiting for him. “However, let it be said that I will not stomach a single second of loutish or foul behavior from too much drink. Weekend or not, you are still professionals at this school and anyone” --he glanced now directly at Marcus Belby-- “and I mean  _ anyone,  _ who is seen exhibiting this behavior I will see to ... _ personally.” _

It had taken some time after the war, but Severus’s throat had long since gained back its usual resonance. The scars may have faded-but simply looking at the man was enough to cow even the most laborious employee. Belby, a surprisingly quick study and a hit with the children, nearly had to be carried out after the last introductory staff meeting the prior year. He would have no such repeat.  __ The nervous librarian looked at him with a sheepish grin that reminded him too much of a Weasley, though  _ this _ man had a round face and brown hair. 

“Unless Madam Abbott wishes to have her beds filled prior to the year beginning again, I think we can move on.” He intoned.

He glanced now towards the end of the table and inclined his head slightly. “Professor Longbottom?”

Neville smiled fully now, his hair still poofy from the application of a drying charm post shower, and chimed in, “Yes, Headmaster. All is well. I’ve taken all of the scores from the Gryffindors as you’ve asked. The parent’s feedback has been taken in as well, and--”

“Blaise?”

Head of Slytherin Blaise Zabini looked over, his richly toned and handsome face only having become more attractive with age, the deep emerald robes he always wore cut perfectly around his trim figure. “No issues here, Severus. Our House knows better.” The two men shared a compiratorial smile, at least as much as his half-smirk of Severus could be considered a smile. Neville looked over at the two men and merely smiled and shook his head. Severus scowled. It was becoming harder over the years to elicit a reaction. Perhaps he would have to put more effort in.  


“We’re all fine over here , Sir!” Before he could even ask, his head of Hufflepuff and former apprentice Penny Haywood chimed in. Blonde, pale skinned and beautiful, she cut a stark contrast to the dour potions professor. Having attended school just before Harry, she was one of the few students whose talent at potions nearly reached his own and the only one he had been able to stomach assisting him for more than a few minutes. He nodded at the potions professor and turned his head to another blonde. This one wore brightly mismatched robes woven in a variety of colors,her loud style having grown louder but somehow more ethereal as she aged.

Smiling serenely, Luna Lovegood gave him a single nod he took as assent that both Ravenclaw and the Magical Creatures curriculum were in good hands. Or at least, he begrudgingly told himself, the best hands available since Hagrid had gone to France to be with his now-wife Olympe shortly after construction was finished. Luna Lovegood had not been at Hogwarts more than five years now, having taken over from a very overworked Grubbly-Plank, and wresting the Head of House belt shortly after Flitwick left, having finished his own apprenticeship shortly afterward.

Despite all the hellaciousness of the war and the long process of rebuilding, Hogwarts had thrived. Having decided mutually that they were not simply going to be able to keep up with the demands of the castle and the new incoming students and the baby boom shortly after the war, the elder Hogwarts teachers had gotten together and made plans for their next generation. Several apprenticeships began, and after enough time those he still struggled not to see as children become his peers. Poppy and Minerva held no sympathy for him.  _ The old hags _ , he thought glumly, fingering his bottom lip as he thought on his Ogden’s.

“Oh, one more thing before we adjourn, Severus”. He nearly shot daggers at Aurora, who having known him for the better part of 50 years and attended school during the same time, nearly smiled. Never in front of others was their rule. “We still have to go over the updated curriculum for Muggle Studies and History of Magic. The Board of Directors has insisted we never sent out a copy this year.” He nearly barked out a laugh.

“Oh yes, it’s not as if we’ve been exchanging owls about it for months now. Damn Minerva. Fine, what else are we missing? Bones? Creevey? I trust you were capable enough to do work you should’ve done months ago now? ” Severus intoned. 

Both of them gave each other a wary look, but it was Susan who spoke up first. “I already sent out owls as far back as last July letting the students know they would need the new updated textbooks that include the war efforts. They were sending some that still referred to Goblins as ‘our Merry Fellows in Servitude.” Can you imagine?” 

Dennis Creevey, Muggle and Wizards’ Studies teacher respectively, barked out a small laugh.

“Yes, I’ve got the same curriculum I’ve had since they asked for me to update it almost a decade ago, Headmaster. I’ll more than have the results on time this year, though I’ve insisted they should have them already.” Instead of taking this as wit, they shared a dry smile as the mask of implacability went back over Severus’s face.

Having decided that certainly things needed to be updated in order to prevent future atrocities following the war, the History of Magic curriculum was quickly replaced with one that was much more ‘progressive’. The few and loud outspoken folks against it were mainly the few remaining Pureblood families who largely following the war tried their best to lay low, lest the many extraneous charges for aiding and abetting various Death Eaters be laid at their doorstep. It was largely simply to get them to comply--for certainly near the end the Death Eaters were so rampant and corrupt so bad that hardly any Pureblood no matter how pro or anti Muggle they might be would be able to avoid knowing someone or  _ something _ related to the Dark Lord's success. 

Susan Bones, niece of famed Auror and member of Order of the Phoenix Amelia Bones had been a shoe-in for History of Magic. Binns had long since proven himself incapable of any growth or change. Decades later he still referred to Minerva as  _ Dippett. _ . Susan was already one of the many 7th years who decided to progress straight to the Aurory after Hogwarts, and having grown up with a longstanding name of her lineage being associated with fairness and honesty, and taking that to heart after the untimely murder of her aunt, Susan volunteered and became the person to replace Professor Binns. She had grown from a quiet girl into a stately, handsome woman with dark brown hair, lightly tanned skin and a fit figure she wore under voluminous navy-blue robes.

With the entire Golden Trio, the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt firmly behind it, they had passed nearly unanimously in the Board of Directors to overdue both HOM and Muggle Studies curriculums. History of Magic was made with more modern textbooks made in the last century that painted a more accurate picture of the evils of blood supremacy. The Act--Severus refused to use  _ that _ name, the one the blasted Granger she-devil had insisted on--was a hit. The biggest educational reform in over a hundred years. It had taken years to put through fruition and had been fully enacted for over five years now.

Creevey, a Muggle-born student and survivor of the Battle of Hogwarts had lost his entire family to blood-hate and had been indispensable in the creation of the unique dual position he now sat. It was he, alongside Hermione, who had been the one to cite the need for greater instruction given to Muggle-born students on how to navigate in a wholly different world.

Sounding complicated on its head, it made more sense when breaking apart. Muggle-born students would be put in  _ Wizard’s Studies _ for the first three years, with  _ Muggle Studies _ given to all Pureblood students. Half-blood students would be given more discernment based on their upbringing. Wizard Studies taught the things a Muggle born student might not know. Laws, culture, the need for secrecy, how to survive better in a world wholly different, including a mandatory  _ emotional _ component--Snape still squirmed over this--that helped them discuss how they were adjusting. It even included take-home coursework and greater parental outreach to make their transition into wizarding society a more  _ inclusive _ one. 

The  _ Muggle Studies _ the first three years taught a crash course in Muggle culture, science, tech, and literature. It gave a more comprehensive idea of how to survive in Muggle society. During 4th and 5th year classes were combined into one comprehensive one that focused mainly on transition to the adult world. It taught the basics and expectations of adults in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Students learned what they would need to know to navigate public transportation, how to blend into Magical and Muggle populations in different societies,and the basic laws, tenets and roles a person might play in each society. 

NEWT’s focused on careers related to transitional roles as an entire new branch of the Department of Magical Cooperation had to be opened in order to coordinate the implementation of the curriculum, to liaison with parents and help prevent the atrocities of the war. This growth in the economy was seen as a good thing and provided many more jobs, even for Purebloods offering to be liaisons, helping to find prominence again after many lost their livelihoods or family members. It was still fraught with corruption , but it was a start. If there was one thing Severus was loath to lose, it was hope, no matter how small. Severus still received angry owls from this or that Pureblood family every week. He burned them without reading. As Headmaster he easily could have had his mail watched for such things, but, he had explained to the house elves in charge of this task, he  _ enjoyed _ the burning. These things--little hopes.

Dennis had been a twitchy, stout boy from what Severus remembered, and had grown into a thin and weasel-faced young man, with yellow-tinged pale skin and robes that always seemed slightly off with his plain Muggle dress suits. But Dennis was no longer the quiet child he had been; he was now a happy, smiling man with confidence and the ability to charm even the most angry parent or child into submission without even trying. Despite the fact he would never openly admit praise about a staff member in this way--a  _ Gryffindor _ , no less--he was absolutely perfect for the job. His smile, nonetheless, was grating during this endlessly long meeting that didn’t seem to end. 

Having decided that he had enough for a day, Severus loudly grunted, an undignified sound that was known to the staff as his, “I cannot handle another word without a brandy, leave or stay, no matter to me”, noise, as he dismissed them. The large table shot along to the back wall out of the way with a single wave of his arm, opening up the larger floor of the staff room. This in chairs on that side quickly shot up and clambered out of the way, the table angrily and impatiently tapping sharply on the hips before it shot off to join itself along the wall, piling neatly with the included chairs. He heard someone mutter “ _ Show off,” _ that sounded distinctly like the telltale title of Granger and smirked to himself.  _ She  _ had been suspiciously quiet all the meeting. That was rather unlike her, he could not remember a single staff meeting the woman had not dominated. Before he could ponder this further--he would  _ not _ stand a member of staff getting everyone sick before term began--Septima caught his eye.

He gave her the tiniest imperceptible nods before he stood, his voluminous robes falling about him, his usual black split up only by the white of his shirt and the navy-blue cravat that sat at his throat. His scars were hidden by both glamour and his usual dress robes. His black hair having been salted with grey, particularly near his temples, it fell to just past his shoulders. His skin, teeth and nose were as they always were--but he had put on a few pounds both with age, his lightly more limited ability and without the constant stress of two masters on both sides. He looked, for all intents and purposes, perfectly fine, in his estimation. Snape had long since moved past any such fantasies of being  _ handsome _ or  _ desirable _ , but between his occasional lovers and the years of rest since the war he had become accustomed to himself. 

So with all the usual fervor, his black dress robes whipped about him as he followed Septima to the corner where his bottle of Ogden’s sat chilled and prepared by the House-elves taken straight from his quarters. His long wooden cane, ebony, matching his wand--a ridiculous expenditure Lucius Malfoy had nearly threatened to hex him before he begrudgingly began wearing after his limp became more pronounced--matched in meticulous timing with his wholecut black dress shoes, the heels stamping down in such dour fashion but with such grace one was reminded of a panther stalking its prey, decided but silent.

Septima handed him a glass she had already poured  _ just _ so, and they clinked together.

“To another year, Severus.” She said, a smile fitting her warm features, the smile lines on her face growing wider with well-use after the war.

Taking one sour look at the already increasingly-tipsy staff surrounding him, then down at his bottle of Ogden’s, there was only one sound he heard before he took his first sip. The same, pealing, high-pitched gail of laughter he had heard for the last few years nearly started him as he felt it hit him to his core. It was a complete contrast to the under-the-breath snigger he had stomached earlier. It was the right tone to shoot straight into his ear canal and beat down upon his drum furiously,  _ just _ so. The damned girl--no,  _ woman,  _ fuck, but he was getting older--with her large mane of voluminous hair, her easy smiles and her bright, white teeth, was going to be the death of him someday. 

“To another year.” He took his Ogden’s, and he swished it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This chapter alpha'd by the wonderful Nautilicious  
>  A few notes:
> 
> -My version of Hermione in this fic in particular is based off of Noma Dumezweni’s fantastic performance in Cursed Child. I may use Emma as muse for a different fic in the future.
> 
> -My version of Lavender Brown is based off of art from UpTheHillArt on tumblr. She was white washed in the movies, but I kept some traits of actress Jessie Cave as it's more true to my version of who I picture Lavender Brown to be.
> 
> -I use third-person omniscient view (meaning I switch between character’s viewpoints in this fic. I will try to use page breaks to keep it consistent. It is mainly SS and HG, with other perspectives thrown in. It’s a big cast for a big fic.)
> 
> -Since this takes place 15 years after the war, everyone is well of age. 
> 
> -If anyone of this seems off, please remember this is literally make believe and up to interpretation. This is an AU. I have taken the canon and murdered it. However, I look forward to and strongly encourage feedback.


	2. Partly, Hardly

It would have been far easier if they just weren’t so...stupid. Bless their gentle hearts, but humans had a long way to go before having their proverbial backsides together as a species. Speeding past the librarian currently into his second cup avoiding the gaze of the dour Headmaster, Tawny quickly ducked between two of the attending professors to grab a cup that was close to falling. With a flick of her long fingers, she vanished it. Smiling satisfactorily when it went down to the kitchens below where her fellow employees would be fretting over it even now. 

This place would fall apart without me, she thought, flipping the length of sandy brown hair--her namesake since birth--out of her large amber eyes. She stared up at the wide-eyed stare of her fellow colleague, Luna. With eyes nearly as wide as her own, a bright blue amongst a shock of bright, waist -length silver-blonde hair and a sparkling, multitone dress, Luna Lovegood made quite a sight. 

Though two very different people, Luna had long since understood those on the fringe, those existing between multiple worlds. They had been fast friends. Luna walked up. “Working during a party, Tawny?”

Casually flicking her hair out of her eyes again, the fringe never seeming to get out of her petite, angular face, Tawny laughed. She snapped her fingers and the tray of food just behind her that was about to clatter to the floor righted itself again on top of the table. Belby quickly righted himself and vanished his own butterbeer before the eyes of the frightening Headmaster found him. That man may be half a lush, but he’s a fool too if he doesn’t watch himself,she ruminated sorely.

Luna gave her a knowing look. Tawny huffed. “Perhaps I wouldn’t have to work if wizards had any level of self sufficiency. This place would fall apart without me.”

Luna laughed, it was a tinkering, musical sound, instantly catching the eyes of several around her. “That much I’m certain is true. Perhaps, just for tonight, we could let it?” She grabbed Tawny by the shoulder and gently steered her towards the drinks. Luna proffered some tea as the shorter woman took the hot beverage from the taller blonde witch.

Having lived through the worst of the war, first as a servant--she would never call herself a slave-- in the kitchens as a young woman, before emancipation, and finally rising through the ranks to gain her position now. For at least this moment, in this situation, she was no different than anyone else. She was just a member of staff, enjoying a beverage with a colleague. It was so ...pedestrian. When she first started, people looked at her with laughter, guffaws, and shock. 

Some looked at her with pity, or worse, with some undeserved sense of pride as if being a caretaker with a moderate wage and being allowed to vote was the same as being granted the position of king from pauper. For all the freedom she had before the war, it was the circumstances that were different. When she walked among Diagon Alley to shops no longer allowed--legally--to turn away her custom, she wondered how much things had truly changed. 

Tawny never told them, the humans, that the house elves had their own celebrations each year at the staff party. That their manners of dance and drunkenness and celebration were very private, filled with as much pomp and pride as the wizard's own. That Tawny worked her way up from dishwasher to head of kitchen, that she helped organize and take care of the splintered house elf staff after the war. That she was the one they went to for comfort; that her position as caretaker was long overdue, largely nominal. 

They did not know that she had done far more to hold together the castle than most, both figuratively with labor and then finally, literally, with magic made with her very blood. That their respect for her now was nothing next to them noticing she existed. And that the pressure of so many eyes on her, so many years later, judging her made her nervous. The hairs on her skin stood with nerves when they regarded her. That she still used the oft-ignored and secret passageways even the teachers didn’t know when she wanted to avoid eyes. That the pride of a house elf was just as much in their discretion, and that even today the human’s gluttony and exuberance frightened her, disgusted her, made her dry heave behind closed doors when she thought of what was expected her leaving the safety of her homegroup to be a charlatan amongst these, her former oppressors. 

She smiled, and took a sip. Always as her mother said, Never let them see you suffer, unless they think it’s for their own benefit. Never let them see you crack

********

She eyed him across the room. Her gold-flecked eyes rimmed with long lashes lowered into slits as she looked across her glass, taking a sip of the tart Malbec and grimacing at its taste. Blaise raised a single eyebrow and smirked slightly before turning back to conversation with Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbot-Longbottom. Hermione didn’t miss the way Blaise’s eyes appreciated and appraised Neville’s wife and wondered how Neville could smile so openly at the man. His glances at the curvaceous, trim blonde with the rosy fair skin was nigh on voracious. Hermione’s thoughts raced. Did he see the name “Abbott” of the Sacred-28 and think of her as a Pureblood? Did he not know of her Half-Blood status? Would he even care?

Hermione remembered seeing his life nearly destroyed after the war, as Blaise went about seeking his own path to redemption. He had long since publicly renounced his ignorant, blood-fueled ways, though he did have some colorful opinions he at least managed to squash enough in others' company. As far as tone and upbringing, he could not be farther from personality if possible to Neville. It was therefore funny that he had become so close with the man’s wife, often seen inviting her for tea. Before Hermione could open her mouth to say something to the person next to her, she turned away. Repeat after me: It is not my business, she thought to herself, the slight haze of her second glass of wine clouding her ability to care.

Having been at Hogwarts for nigh on five years, she had long since passed on most gossip, deeming it beneath her. However it was a small campus, and word traveled quickly enough to spark interest. Loathe as she was to admit it, Hermione was bored sometimes in this dusty old castle, and as Lavender Brown smirked at her across the room, noticing her brief pontification of Blaise, Hermione allowed herself a small inward knowing. Gossip was fun, damnit; and she had an itch to scratch. She stored away the note to invite Lavender for tea that coming week, if time would allow.

The two women had moved past their enmity a near decade before. Having both long since dated, dumped, and mourned their love for Ron Weasley, and being forced to join together at the Weasley-Potter-Patil clan Christmas every year, their girlhood frenemy status had turned from perfunctory, to polite, to personal friend. They had mourned the loss of what may have been a childhood friendship in wine and late-night teas, knowing that no amount of mourning can change the past, and that who they are now is what mattered. Hermione had to have some humor in the situation, their continued friendship. She could not avoid her at work. Nor at the Potter-Weasley Christmas she could not turn down lest Ginny strangle her.

And when Padma Patil showed up on the hip of Ron Weasley with an ashen-faced Lavender and Parvati in tow, Hermione had taken in stride. And in wine. But mainly, in stride. In another lifetime they may never have met, but there was only this lifetime they had now.

With that in mind, Hermione strode across the room to her. Lavender grabbed Hermione’s glass and replaced it with a Riesling she had gotten from somewhere, much closer to Hermione’s taste. The sweet honey and lemon hints were much more to Granger’s liking and she thanked Lavender greatly as she gave her a firm hug, the slimmer body of Hermione pressing firmly to her friend. Hermione pulled away and gave her a megawatt smile, the kind Harry once told her lit up the room. Though the slight red hue growing on her cheeks was only going to get worse as the night went on. Mentally kicking herself, Hermione decided to take a break after this drink. She had a conversation to have still tonight, and had already spent half the meeting lost in thought. 

“Pardon?”, she snapped, her eyes focusing upwards.

“Hermione I’ve been speaking to you for like a solid minute and your glass has been quite interesting. You were barely speaking the entire meeting. You haven’t done that since they initiated the Decree. Are you okay?”

Hermione paused. She could lie to many people, had for years as part of her continued position as the “face” of the The Golden Trio at Hogwarts, but she could not lie to Lavender. 

She looked up at the slightly taller woman. “I thought I saw something earlier that made no sense. And it’s been bugging me.” She had this skittish, uneasy feeling. Like a crawling up her spine, ever since she had seen--whatever she had seen. What was that, anyway? She mused.

Lavender gave her a serious look that was part analysis and part concern that belied much more depth and intelligence that many would give the chipper witch credit for. 

“Do you want to talk about it, or do you need more time to do the Hermione thing where you spend three weeks reading obscure foreign books until you tell me?”

Hermione couldn’t help the full bodied laugh followed by the only mildly embarrassing snort. “You know me too well.”

“Better than you know yourself sometimes, I think. And based on your deflection, I’m gonna guess that it needs to wait until you’re ready to tell me.”

Hermione smiled, and the two changed the subject to more mundane things. After a solid water, a brief snack break from the house-elf prepared spread, Hermione was slightly more in control of her drunkenness. However, the many-varied staff around them could not be said the same. She took a deeper look at her goblet, a much weaker butterbeer, contemplating the Thing She Did Not Want To Do. Normally, this conversation would be easy. She had spoken to the man enough, but her nerves had been shot all day. Since she saw...whatever it was that she saw?

Looking up, she saw that fate had made the choice for her. No time like the present.

“Still contemplating the relative merits of elf-made wine glasses, Miss Granger?” the silky drawl of the Headmaster drew her eyes even further up. He was dressed in more stream-lined and better quality robes than his usual black, with a fine silk cravat of navy on his throat hiding the memories of That Day.

“Ah yes, Professor. I was just thinking about you,” she intoned smoothly. His slender facade fell for a half second--a minor difference she had noticed after too many long-winded meetings in the last half decade--”I know we have much to go over. I was hoping you and I could meet up the next week in order to discuss the upcoming inquiry--”

“As yes, the Inquisition. I am so looking forward to it. You were much more quiet than normal at our daily meetings. What Granger shall I be seeing during our forthcoming meeting? Shall we be contemplative or loquacious? I’d like to know if I should prepare earplugs or a good novel to prepare.” 

“Well Headmaster given that you’ve done this for a decade, you think you would know how a standard meeting should go, but I will be certain to bring some Cliffs Notes on various ways to have a professional interaction.” He sneered. She smiled back in a way that did not meet her eyes. Lavender looked between the both of them and bolted. 

A slight smirk at the corner of his thin lips and the slight raising of a single eyebrow was the only indication he was not actually upset, despite their continually abrasive words. Five years was a long time. Fifteen was even longer. They could not be called friends, or even particularly friendly, but they were...familiar. That is what it was. Suddenly aware of how dry her throat was from the libations despite the water she had been drinking, Hermione took a sip to parch her thirst. Taking the moment of silence as an opportunity to move on. Severus gave her a polite nod and stormed out of the room, saying goodbye to exactly no one. The tall, double doors magically enlarged to fit all of the castles’ occupants slammed behind him. The ten chimes of the grandfather clock on the far wall started as soon as the door slammed shut. It had been exactly two hours since the meeting and subsequent party began.

She smiled to herself. Just enough time to be seen amongst his cohorts and employees as being a part of them, not a second longer than his Aurora could wheedle out of him. 

Shaking her head and smiling, the Charms Mistress thought to herself, that time did not, in fact, change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some short introductory chapter stuff here, and a teeny hint of our Potions Master meeting the Charms Mistress. Next: What will happen as we get a little closer perspective from our dear Potions Master? Hmm….


End file.
